


Masyaf

by heretherebemonsters



Series: A City With A Story [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Finger Sucking, Grandmaster Altair, Grumpy Malik, Implied AltairxMaria, M/M, Malik misses Altair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretherebemonsters/pseuds/heretherebemonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik has been running the Order in Masyaf while Altair is away. When Altair finally comes home, their reunion doesn't go as either had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masyaf

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I had lying around on my flash drive. I wrote this sometime last year, intending for it to be a multi chapter fic. Maybe I'll continue it if anyone wants to see more but for now it's a one-shot.
> 
> Also I own nothing you recognize.

The animosity-or was it rivalry?- was instant the moment Malik Al-Sayf and Maria Thorpe first saw one another.

Altair had finally returned from Cypress. Four months ago when he’d left, he had nearly crushed Malik in his arms and kissed him goodbye heatedly, promising to return as soon as possible. Malik had stood forlornly at the gates of Masyaf and watched Altair ride away, the taste of his kiss still lingering on his lips. Malik would have liked to go along but the Order still required a leader in the Grandmaster’s absence and Altair had entrusted this task to Malik, not believing anyone else capable of it. Malik knew he should consider this an honor and it did make him proud that Altair would trust him with something so important but it didn’t lessen Malik’s desire to have stayed at Altair’s side instead.

Running the Brotherhood proved to be demanding and time-consuming but Malik handled everything adeptly. It reminded him of running a Bureau, just on a much larger scale. Consequently, the responsibilities were greater and the nature of the work involved generally much more taxing than anything he’d dealt with in Jerusalem. There were still novices and informers and assassins to monitor and assign to missions but the number of them had quadrupled. There was also the management of the fortress and the forces stationed there, the upkeep of the stables and livestock. There were also relations with the village of Masyaf to consider and as the highest ranking Dai in the Order, Malik also had to keep up with his regular duties of managing the library and the scholars at the fortress along with all the Bureaus and their respective rafiqs in the outlying cities. Then of course, to top it all off, there were foreign relations and political matters that extended all across Syria and the Holy Land…Malik had quickly lost patience with these. Altair was surprisingly good with politics while Malik himself had never been very diplomatic.

For much of the last four months, Malik had found himself exhausted, drained by keeping the Brotherhood together while Altair was off having Allah knew what sort of amazing adventures. Malik admitted that he was still a bit jealous about that. Yet none of this had kept Altair from his mind, the thought of the man giving him refuge during his waking hours and nothing but torment at night. Malik had been lonely without Altair and he had waited eagerly for the man’s return.

But he would never have expected it be like this.

“Begging your pardon, Dai,” the novice began, shifting nervously from one foot to the other in front of the Grandmaster’s desk where Malik was working. All in the fortress knew it could potentially be dangerous to interrupt Malik when he was concentrating and knew to tread lightly around the man.

“What is it?” Malik snapped without looking up. His quill continued to busily scratch across the parchment in front of him.

“Sir, the Eagle has returned.”

Malik’s movements paused and he glanced up, his heart skipping a beat as he wondered if he’d heard the youngster correctly. “What?”

“The Grandmaster has returned,” the youth clarified, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Altair is here?” Malik murmured, surprised, as he tried to ignore the way his heart had suddenly begun to pound in his chest.

“He is in the courtyard, Dai,” the novice confirmed.

Malik didn’t move for a long second then rose swiftly, throwing his quill down and abandoning the desk and his unfinished paperwork. Damn it all and damn the Order, just this once. The correspondence could wait.

It was unlike Malik to abandon his work so readily; after all, he had always scolded Altair for not staying focused on what needed to be done. He knew he had just proven himself a hypocrite but he found he couldn't care less. He had been looking forward to this moment since the very afternoon Altair had departed on his journey. 

Malik's strides were long and swift and soon he emerged from the library wing of the fortress into the bright light outside. It was mid-morning but the Syrian sun already sat high in the sky, its rays harsh and unyielding. A warm breeze swept down from the mountains, blessedly stirring what would have been otherwise stagnant air. Masyaf was not just yet at the peak of summer and the weather was still fine. It was a beautiful day for a homecoming.

There was already a crowd of assassins gathered in the castle keep and Malik could hear them before he could see them. A multitude of voices were raised in greeting and salutation, their tones full of joy and excitement. Malik took no offense at this; while he had proven himself a capable leader in Altair's absence, Altair undoubtedly held the loyalty and admiration of the Brotherhood. Malik allowed himself a small smile; his Brothers were simply glad to see their Grandmaster finally home safely. He seconded their sentiment whole-heartedly.

When Malik came to the edge of the courtyard, his dark eyes were quick to pinpoint Altair among the throng. The Dai stopped in his tracks, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of his closest friend, here at last. 

Altair was grubby and dusty from traveling yet he still radiated an effortless air of authority and power, strength and lethal grace evident in every line of his body and every movement he made. Malik thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful but then he thought that just about every time he laid eyes on Altair.

As if sensing the Dai watching him, Altair suddenly turned and looked up, his golden gaze swinging unerringly directly to Malik. Their eyes locked and the faintest smile touched Altair's scarred lips before he plunged ahead through the throng, making his way toward Malik.

Malik watched Altair approach with a pounding heart, his fingers trembling slightly. The other assassins parted respectfully to allow their leader to pass once they realized what was going on and when Altair was an arm's reach away, the Grandmaster seemed almost to sprint forward those last few feet and unabashedly drew Malik into a tight embrace. It was a rare display of public affection for the usually stoic Altair but it wasn't as if the gathered assassins hadn't witnessed this before. There was nothing disturbing about the Grandmaster embracing his oldest friend and if anything the sight made them all feel more secure knowing the two men who ran their Order were a united force leading them. It was well known that the Grandmaster and his second-in-command had known one another nearly all their lives and had been friends for almost that long. It was this attitude that made Malik comfortable enough to return Altair's hug, his one arm wrapping around the man briefly but tightly before they stepped apart.

Altair's hands remained resting on Malik's shoulders and the Dai was all too aware of them, the weight and the heat of the other man's palms simultaneously soothing him and igniting a spark of desire deep in his belly. It was gratifying to see the same hunger reflected in Altair's eyes as he held Malik's gaze.

“Welcome back,” Malik said softly. “I am relieved to see you in one piece.” He let all of the relief and joy he was feeling seep into that one sentence, willing Altair to understand how much he had been missed before his tone turned typically sarcastic, ever mindful of the ears that may be listening. “You can have your Brotherhood back. I don't want it anymore. Looking after these dolts is exhausting.” A few snickers and indignant snorts sounded from nearby.

Altair grinned lopsidedly at Malik. “I am sure you have managed just fine without me.” Altair held his gaze for a moment longer and Malik's heart swelled a bit at the trust and pride he saw there. The moment was broken when Altair looked away, glancing back over his shoulder at someone Malik couldn't see. One of Altair's hands left Malik's shoulder and reached out as he turned away slightly. Someone took the proffered hand and then there was a third person standing with them.

It was a woman. She was obviously European, her skin pale and creamy and her eyes a pale blue that instantly reminded Malik of Kadar. Her long dark hair was pulled back and up off her neck and she wore practical clothes, a long tunic, breeches and tall boots. A sword hung at her side and a short cloak was pushed back over her shoulders. She held herself with dignity and pride; though she was much shorter than Altair the set of her shoulders and jaw were no less strong than his. She wasn't particularly beautiful or even very pretty but Malik thought she certainly was striking in her own way.

The fact that there was a strange woman here was not cause for Malik to be alarmed but the way Altair continued to hold her hand in his, was. Malik shifted uneasily, his eyes darting from the woman's face to their joined hands to Altair's face, searching for answers even as his gut turned cold with apprehension.

Altair must have seen Malik's distress for he was quick to offer an introduction. “Malik, this is Maria Thorpe. We crossed paths in Cypress.” He turned to Maria. “Maria, this is Malik Al-Sayf, my closest friend, advisor and the highest ranked Dai in the Brotherhood.”

Maria Thorpe. Malik thought the name rang a bell somewhere in his mind. Pushing the thought aside, Malik quickly recovered his manners and bowed his head to her. “Welcome to Masyaf,” he murmured.

Maria was eying him, her gaze lingering a second too long on the incompleteness on the left side of Malik's body and he did his best not to glare at her, his jaw clenching so tightly a muscle in it twitched. Finally, Maria nodded back, a faintly haughty air in the set of her chin. “Pleased to meet you, Dai,” she said respectfully, though there was something else in her voice that Malik didn't like. “Altair told me a lot about you.”

Malik took the excuse to direct a glare at Altair. “Hopefully all of your accolades were shining, novice,” he all but growled.

Altair's other hand that wasn't holding Maria's squeezed Malik's shoulder. “Of course. Nothing but the highest praise for you, my friend.”

Malik huffed, a large part of his previously good mood evaporated. His handsome features had slid back into their trademark scowl, his brows drawing together and the corners of his lips turning down. Malik didn't appreciate having his reunion with the man he loved sullied by this wench's presence and judging by the way Altair still held her hand, the two of them obviously meant something to each other and this did absolutely nothing to bolster Malik's spirits. In fact, it hurt him in a deep place in his heart that he had last felt when he had grieved for his brother.

Altair saw Malik's scowl and tried to look apologetic. He knew Malik wasn't stupid, far from it. The man would have guessed by now at the nature of the relationship between himself and Maria and maybe even the reason he had brought her here. Altair felt guilty for ruining the homecoming this way but had wanted to give Malik an easy way to sound out the situation for himself rather than simply being told what it was directly. Altair's heart twisted as it hadn't in a long time as he watched Malik try to hold onto his composure. 

When Malik spoke again, his voice was steady, giving away nothing, and anyone but Altair would have missed the ragged edges in it. “Once again, Grandmaster, it is good to see you back. Now if you'll excuse me,” and here Malik's tone turned clipped, “I have work to do.” With that, the Dai turned and walked away quickly, headed back toward the library and the correspondence he'd so recently abandoned.

+++

Malik avoided Altair and the woman for the rest of the day, leaving them to their unpacking and settling in while he busied himself with the affairs of the Order just as he would if Altair were still gone, plowing ahead into the paperwork and assigning novices and mentors to missions. He took some time to work on the latest version of the map of Jerusalem he'd started, letting the unruly chaos of his mind fall quiet with the concentration required for drawing straight clean lines and marking down details of landmarks. Malik was still the most accomplished cartographer in the Order and he still took on most of the mapmaking assignments himself. He'd been training a few apprentices to help but he'd always found the work almost therapeutic so he kept at it, using it as a refuge when everything threatened to swamp him.

Malik worked on the map late into the evening, only pausing to light a lamp as the last rays of the sun's light faded outside the tall arched windows of the library. He sat back down with a sigh; the brief interruption had broken his concentration and now all the thoughts he'd been avoiding all day flooded back into his head. He couldn't get the image of A ltair's hand joined with Maria's out of his mind's eye. With it came the stab of pain at the realization he was being replaced. Finally, after he'd given Altair everything he could.

Malik sighed again, heavier this time and leaned his chin in his palm, elbow on the desk's polished surface. His eyes flicked over the lines of deep black ink crossing the parchment, forming Jerusalem as they went. The quill lay off to the side, forgotten.

This was how Altair found him only a few minutes later. The Grandmaster approached the library on silent feet, ears pricked for the sounds that would tell him that Malik was still here. He'd gone by the man's quarters to let him know that everyone was headed to the banquet in the main hall but had found the rooms empty. Altair had frowned and set off to find the Dai; he didn't want to attend his own homecoming celebration without Malik. The next logical place to look had been the library.

Altair paused as he rounded a row of bookcases and caught sight of Malik slumped over a desk tucked away in the most remote corner of the archive. Dim yellow lamp light did little to hold back the encroaching darkness but it was enough for Altair to see that the scowl was still firmly set on Malik's face, the flickering light etching deep lines of shadow across his features. He thought it odd that Malik was merely sitting and not actually working. He hung back in the blackness for a moment longer, allowing himself to admire Malik, reacquainting himself with the familiar face he hadn't seen in four very long months.

Altair finally shuffled his feet purposefully, giving Malik a gentle warning before he stepped out from his position of hiding and into the pool of lamplight. “Still working on your maps, I see,” he said lightly, trying for casualness. 

Malik hadn't looked up or moved at the announcement of a visitor, though Altair knew the man had undoubtedly heard the scuffling before he'd spoken. Malik's hearing was still the sharp, keen sense of an assassin born and raised, no matter what title he held these days. “Someone has to make maps correctly,” Malik replied acidly, his scowl deepening. “These novices around here know nothing and most do not care to learn.”

Altair faltered; he wasn't sure what to say to that or if it even bore a reply. After a second's deliberation, he decided to change tack completely. “The banquet is beginning downstairs. You should join me.”

Malik scoffed. “I'd rather not.”

Altair sighed. “Why not? We haven't seen each other in four months, Malik.” He would never admit it aloud but Malik's standoffishness hurt.

“You think I don't know that?” Malik snorted but Altair could hear the pain lacing the words. “You're the one who came back with a woman in tow. Apparently, I don't mean as much to you as I thought if you could so blatantly and conveniently forget about me after a mere four months.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Malik,” Altair huffed in exasperation. “I could never forget about you.”

“Oh really?” Malik cut in harshly. “You could have fooled me.” Even as the words came out, he thought maybe these were things he shouldn't be saying, petty things that he would be ashamed of later. But Malik had always been one to let his temper run his mouth.

Altair sighed, caught somewhere between anger and hurt. “Let's not argue, Malik. Please. I just got back and I would rather spend time with you, have you by my side tonight.”

Malik knew he should relent, let it go for now, but it was all too easy to fall into old patterns. He suddenly felt as though they were back in his Bureau in Jerusalem. “What good would that do?” The words just seemed to keep coming unstoppably, just as they had back in those months after Solomon's Temple, when they had unthinkingly and yet deliberately hurt each other just as much as they had healed one another in the end. “You have her. You don't need me anymore.”

Altair clenched his fists at his sides and took a deep breath to keep his sudden rage in check. The two men glared at each other and all Altair could think was that this was not how he had wanted his homecoming to be. A long minute passed and finally Altair spoke, his tone even but full of frustration. “Stop this now, Malik. This is ridiculous and you know it. You are a reasonable man; now act like one.”

Malik said nothing at the reprimand, sitting placidly and staring at Altair for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the map on the desk. He felt foolish and more than a little childish. He didn't know why he'd wanted to pick a fight on tonight of all nights, when he should be celebrating and soaking in Altair's presence. “You're right,” he said finally, softly breaking the silence in the library and glancing up. “I'm sorry.”

“That's better,” Altair said, sounding every inch the Grandmaster he was. The authority in his voice sent a shiver down Malik's spine. “I do not wish to argue or discuss this any more tonight. I simply want to enjoy your company. I missed you, Malik.” At this last sentence, Altair's tone changed again, softening while his posture relaxed.

Malik let out a long breath and the words he'd longed to say all day finally tumbled out. “I missed you as well.” He let out a small laugh. “By Allah, did I miss you.”

Altair smiled a little. “There they are, the words I saw in your eyes in the courtyard. It is good to hear you say them.”

Malik scoffed but it lacked his normal acidity. “Did you think I wouldn't? Now who's being ridiculous?”

Altair's smile widened as he stepped around the desk. “You are a handsome, intelligent man, Malik. There are many who would love to steal you from me.” The Grandmaster's voice had dropped and turned husky while his golden eyes seemed to shimmer in the lamplight. Malik found himself unable to look away from him, his heart beating just a bit faster. “You know this is true. There are several beautiful women who have had their eyes on you since we took over the Order.” 

“They would never succeed,” Malik said almost breathlessly. “My heart belongs to you.”

At his words, Altair growled and suddenly pulled Malik's chair away from the desk, turning it so they faced each other and bent to capture Malik's mouth in a searing kiss. Malik yelped in surprise at the swift movement but this changed to a soft moan as his lips met Altair's, eyes sliding shut. Altair's hand came up to grip the back of Malik's head, fingers threading through his black hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue darted out to swipe over Malik's bottom lip questingly and Malik readily opened for the other man. 

Altair's tongue was hot and slick inside Malik's mouth, exploring and tasting him, every crevice and every corner. Malik's hand tightened around the arm of his chair and he moaned again; he'd dreamt of this every night for the last four months. When Altair pulled back for air, they were both breathing heavily and Malik's cheeks were flushed. 

“How I missed the sound of your voice,” Altair murmured, reaching out to touch Malik's cheek gently. The Dai found himself leaning into the simple touch. “I dreamt of you.”

“So did I,” Malik admitted, flushing a bit more.

Altair picked up on his slight embarrassment-or was it arousal?-and grinned. “Really? If your dreams were anything like mine, you woke up gasping and so hard it hurt.” He leaned closer and ghosted kisses along Malik's jaw up to his ear where he nipped playfully at the lobe. Malik gasped and squirmed. “Sounds familiar,” he managed to get out between heavy breaths.

Altair grinned wider against the other man's skin; Malik could feel it. “Did you touch yourself and think of me, habibi?” he breathed into Malik's ear before taking the lobe between his teeth once more. 

Malik moaned softly at the words, unable to stop himself. A sudden jolt of arousal shot straight to his groin and he shifted in his seat. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered faintly. “Every night I longed for you.” His hand came up to grip Altair's robes tightly. The Grandmaster had traded his dusty traveling clothes for pristine white robes and a starkly crimson sash. Malik's fingers tightened in the cloth and he pulled Altair in for another kiss.

The desire that had sat insistently all day in Altair's gut ever since he had seen Malik earlier flared to life at the Dai's soft admittance. When Malik grabbed him and stretched up to kiss him that was all it took for Altair to ache for the other man. He bit at Malik's bottom lip before he drew back far enough to look deep into Malik's eyes, his breathing only quickening when he saw the lust further darkening their depths. “Malik,” Altair whispered, never breaking their gaze, “I need you. Now.”

Malik rose from his chair swiftly, pushing it out of the way with his heel at the same time that Altair grabbed his robes and hauled him up. Altair placed his hand against Malik's chest and shoved him back against the heavy desk, his mouth latching onto Malik's neck, biting and sucking rather roughly in a desire to mark the other assassin as his own. Malik was momentarily surprised by Altair's sudden aggression but he secretly loved it, always had. He bent his neck to allow Altair greater access, letting the Grandmaster reclaim his territory after so long. 

Malik jumped when Altair's hand found its way between them to palm over his stiffness through his breeches. He gasped at the friction and his hips jumped forward into the touch involuntarily. Altair smiled against the Dai's skin but continued to bite and lick his way along Malik's neck as he rubbed between the man's legs a few times. Malik's eyes slid shut and he groaned at the resulting spikes of pleasure that shot through his body, his mouth falling open in a sigh as Altair nibbled at his earlobe.

At the sound of Malik's groan, Altair's hand moved away to grip Malik's waist as he pushed his hips roughly into the other man's. Malik let out a tiny appreciative moan when felt Altair's hardness pressing against his own. “Altair...” he murmured, his tone turning desperate as he pushed back against the Grandmaster. 

Altair growled, his hand already at the laces of Malik's pants. They were undone in moments and Altair shoved his hand down them, fingers unerringly finding Malik's straining cock and wrapping around it to stroke him firmly and quickly. Malik bit back a cry and arched forward, his hand flying back to find support on the desk's edge, gripping tightly. Altair continued, swiping his thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the clear liquid along the shaft to make the glide of his palm smoother. Malik gasped sharply and thrust into Altair's hand, his breaths coming quicker.

“Altair,” Malik warned between pants. “You keep this up, I-I'm not going to last much longer.” It simply felt too good after he had been deprived of his lover's touch.

Altair responded by bringing his free hand up to Malik's lips. “Suck,” he ordered in that authoritative tone Malik loved. “Quickly.”

Malik opened his mouth and took Altair's digits in without hesitation, swiping and swirling his tongue around them, thoroughly wetting them. Altair watched raptly, groaning at the sensation of Malik's tongue sliding across the pads of his fingers, feeling every stroke echoing in an answering twitch of his cock. He continued to stroke Malik and the man continued to rock into his grip, his breath coming heavily through his nose now, pupils blown wide with desire. Finally, he pulled his fingers free and they came away as soaked as though he had dipped them in a fountain.

Now Altair's hand left Malik's cock and instead yanked at the man's pants. Malik helped, his single hand leaving the desk to push at the cloth sitting on his other hip. Altair eyed Malik's cock appreciatively as it sprang free to stand proudly between them; he had always found Malik in the midst of his desire extremely beautiful and even more so now after not having seen him for so long. But once Malik's pants were midway down his thighs, Altair didn't waste any more time. He slid his hand between Malik's legs and brushed a finger along his skin until he found the man's entrance and massaged it. 

Malik gasped and spread his legs a bit as Altair touched him then bit his lip as a slick finger pressed into him. Malik breathed deeply, working past the burn of the intrusion, focusing on the pleasure he knew would follow. 

Altair's other hand had slid around to grip Malik's ass, kneading soothingly in an effort to distract the other man from the discomfort. He was watching Malik's face closely. As much as they both wanted to hurry, he knew taking a few extra moments now would pay off later. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Malik more than necessary.

Altair's finger began to slowly work in and out of Malik's body and soon the burn lessened and he relaxed enough for a second digit to slide in. Again there was a minute of intense discomfort that gave way to pleasure as Altair's fingers worked, stretching him gently. Altair continued kneading Malik's ass and leaned forward to trail kisses along Malik's neck and within short order, Malik was losing himself in his growing pleasure. His body relaxed and his eyes became half-lidded as he pushed against the digits inside him, moaning softly. He didn't even notice when Altair's third finger joined the other two.

When Altair's fingers curled and brushed over Malik's sweet spot, the Dai couldn't hold back a cry and his hips jerked while his cock jumped. Altair smiled at the reaction; he had always appreciated Malik's responsiveness and he was soaking it in now. It was always a glorious sight to see the reserved man come undone at his touch.

Altair's fingers worked in and out of Malik for another minute, brushing teasingly over that spot every time until Malik was a shaking, moaning mess. As much as Altair loved the sight he knew that Malik was even closer to his climax than previously, so he withdrew his fingers. Malik made a disgruntled noise at the loss and Altair couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

Altair had quickly unfastened his own trousers and pushed them down enough for his own arousal to finally be bared. Malik eyed him hungrily and it looked as if he were struggling to not simply reach down and take himself in hand. “Altair...” he whined in a tone that the Grandmaster was sure no one but he had ever heard out of the Dai.

“Turn around,” Altair ordered breathlessly and Malik was quick to obey, his thighs quivering in anticipation. Altair stepped closer, spitting generously into his palm and swiftly slicking his cock as he did so. A gentle touch to Malik's shoulder and the other man bent forward. With no further delay, Altair grabbed Malik by the hips and pushed forward into his lover. Altair wished he could have had the control to be more careful but Malik simply felt too good around him. He grunted in appreciation as he slid into the tight heat and Malik answered with a loud moan. He vaguely felt a burning as he was filled but it passed quickly once Altair began to move. He was grateful then that Altair had taken the time to prepare him beforehand, as frustrating as it had been at the time. 

Altair started up a rough rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The urgency and need fueling this encounter left no room for tenderness but Altair knew that would come later, when he had Malik to himself for an entire night and they could take as much time as they wanted and chase as many orgasms as they pleased until the wee hours of the morning. 

Malik's fingers scrabbled for purchase on the desk's surface as Altair pounded into him, the slap of skin on skin filling the library. Malik bit his lip to keep his pleasured cries somewhat quiet, knowing they would echo off the stone all around. But when Altair changed the angle of his hips slightly and hit that sweet spot, Malik couldn't keep quiet. He cried out, gasping as a wave of white hot pleasure spilled over him. He rocked back against the Grandmaster, desperate to feel that again. He could feel Altair's scarred lips smiling against his neck.

With Altair keeping his hips at the same angle and hitting that spot with every thrust, it didn't take very long at all for Malik to find his peak. He had completely forgotten about his neglected arousal in the midst of the intense molten pleasure speeding along his nerves and only remembered it when he climaxed without being touched once. His voice raised in a shout of ecstasy, suddenly uncaring if anyone heard them. Altair made him feel good, dammit. There was no shame in that.

Altair growled when he felt Malik clamp down around him, becoming impossibly tight. Malik's announcement of his pleasure sent a delighted shiver down Altair's spine and only served to push him closer to the edge himself. He continued to pound into Malik through the other man's climax, needing only a few more thrusts before he found his own release. He stilled and spent his seed, buried inside Malik. A soft moan left Altair's lips as his eyes slid shut; he'd waited for this feeling every night that he'd been away and that made it all the more satisfying now. Malik answered him with a weak moan of his own from where he was slumped over the desk, face buried in the crook of his elbow.

For a long minute, neither moved nor said anything as they tried to get their breath back. Finally Altair stirred and moved away from Malik, the other man hissing in discomfort as Altair's cock slid from his oversensitized body. The Grandmaster quickly tucked himself away and straightened his robes as Malik opened the nearest desk drawer and groped blindly until he found one of the rags he kept handy in case of an ink spill. He straightened and hastily cleaned himself up, turning to face Altair as he pulled his pants back up.

“Well, that was...unexpected,” Malik murmured but a small smile was playing around the corners of his lips and Altair's heart swelled at the sight. He loved nothing better than when Malik was happy.

Altair stepped close and leaned in to kiss the other man gently. Malik kissed back, pausing in the middle of lacing his pants again. This kiss was soft and sweet and spoke of how much they cared for one another. When Altair pulled back, he reached up to cradle Malik's cheek in his palm, looking into the dark depths of his eyes.

“Now will you please come down and attend the banquet with me?” he asked softly. “I want you at my side, Malik. I promise to be yours and yours alone for the remainder of the night.”

Malik sighed though the traces of his smile still lingered. “I suppose so,” he said, quickly finishing securing and straightening his clothing before his expression grew momentarily stern. “But I am still upset about this woman you brought back. That discussion is not over.”

Altair gave him a lopsided grin. “I wouldn't have expected any less from you, habibi.” His hand dropped away and reached for Malik's hand, their fingers lacing together tightly. “Come on. The Brotherhood awaits.”


End file.
